Birotteau was so intoxicated by compliments that he did not comprehend her meaning; but his wife colored, and was at a loss how to reply.
“This is a national fete which does you honor,” said Camusot.
“I have seldom seen such a ball,” said Monsieur de la Billardiere, to whom an official falsehood was of no consequence.
Birotteau took all these compliments seriously.
“What an enchanting scene! What a fine orchestra! Will you often give us a ball?” said Madame Lebas.
“What a charming appartement! Is this your own taste?” said Madame Desmarets.
Birotteau ventured on a fib, and allowed her to suppose that he had designed it.
Cesarine, who was asked, of course, for all the dances, understood very well Anselme’s delicacy in that matter.
“If I thought only of my own wishes,” he had whispered as they left the dinner-table, “I should beg you to grant me the favor of a quadrille; but my happiness would be too costly to our mutual self-love.”
Cesarine, who thought all men walked ungracefully if they stood straight on their legs, was resolved to open the ball with Popinot. Popinot, emboldened by his aunt, who told him to dare all, ventured to tell his love to the charming girl, during the pauses of the quadrille, using, however, the roundabout terms of a timid lover.